


Slipping

by Cafechan



Category: Homestuck
Genre: DUMB CRAP I WROTE AT 4 AM, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-09
Updated: 2011-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:59:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cafechan/pseuds/Cafechan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard for Dave to keep his apathetic act together when Terezi just won't stop laughing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slipping

**Author's Note:**

> um uhhh hi! i've never posted on here and this is also my first homestuck fanfic, also dave is hard to write, also it is 4 AM and i'm not entirely cohesive? rahhh oh no :(

>Be the coolkid.

You are Dave Strider, and you actually feel pretty uncool right now.

You're not really sure what it is about her. She's loud and obnoxious and never hesitates to rib you over these private moments of vulnerability—and as she has the pointiest-ass elbows you've ever laid eyes upon, aforementioned ribbing is seldom an activity that you can escape unharmed. But of course, you're a tough guy, and tough guys don't whine when skinny little cackling girls jab their horrible, razor-sharp appendages into their sides, and you don't plan on breaking that code. Not today, anyway.

Your mouth is ironed flat into a perfectly straight line, and even if your eyes were to betray anything other than sheer indifference, your tactfully placed sunglasses could easily counter that. You are a genius and she is none the wiser.

But that doesn't stop her from continuing to giggle wildly at her own latest artistic endeavor, and while you have to admit that her blind scribbles of garish color explosions (colors that would seem completely random to anyone who didn't know better, but you know better and can easily recognize that these are her favorite flavors) is pretty awesome, it's also hella embarrassing and weirdly touching. Complete with the caption, "COOLK1DS >:]" and obligatory ill-placed glasses, you realize you really shouldn't read too much into what is probably just her weird sense of humor. But for a moment, this drawing has thrown your unshakable demeanor off balance.

>Fondly regard poorly drawn picture of yourself and the cackling pointy girl holding hands.

You refuse. Cool guys don't regard anything fondly, except maybe explosions and sword catalogues. Instead, you regard the picture _icily_ , holding it at arm's length as if holding it any closer would magically absorb you into its grotesquely over-saturated world. Meanwhile, she's practically screaming in your ear, her screaming interspersed with laughter, "DAVE, THIS IS YOU. THIS IS YOU AND ME. AREN'T WE SO BEAUTIFUL AND COOL? HAHAHA!"

You never thought that communicating with this rambunctious bundle of energy in real life could possibly match the level of incoherence that her stupid leet-speak reached, but alas, here she is, absolutely hysterical for reasons you can't quite comprehend. You know that she's excitable, but this is just ridiculous.

And yet, for even more incomprehensible reasons that you can't wrap your mind around, you feel the corner of your mouth twitch (absolutely no more than half of a millimeter) upwards. You hate yourself for it, but luckily she fails to catch whiff of the temporary lapse of your self-control and continues snickering and detailing her complex artistic process.

You're really not to blame. It'd be hard for anyone to keep their inhibitions together around her. The way she tosses her head back and straight up _howls_ with amusement from her own wit, that shark grin that stretches almost literally from ear to ear and exposes every one of her sharp, pearly whites, the way her entire frame—gaunt and paper-thin as it might be—shudders without a reservation in sight under the weight of her breathless laughter… It's all stupid and _so_ obnoxious, and you literally want to do a graceful sashay off the handle and into the depths of the sea for finding it all… subtly endearing. There's not even any irony involved. Just plain old stupid, stupid sincerity.

When she notices that you're only giving half-hearted responses and nods to her passionate discourse on the intricate art of mixing the proper crayon scents, she asks you your opinion on the piece that she poured whatever her troll equivalent to a heart and soul might be into.

You have this great, convoluted metaphor that will completely deflect and derail her question and fail to actually reveal your true feelings. It even involves two obscure pop culture references that she probably won't get and will ask you to explain, which completely kills the momentum of your brilliant metaphors, but you always take the time to pause and explain them anyway.

But before you have a chance to open your small, tight line of a mouth and set this inevitable scenario into motion, she slips one of her bony little hands into yours and briefly brushes against your barely parted lips with her own before retracting and having the effrontery to look completely unfazed. Her characteristic grin splits her face into two, and she laughs. Quietly, for once.

Your name is Dave Strider, and you are one hundred percent certain that the stunned expression on your face right now is a far cry from anything resembling cool, but as long as it's only you and Terezi Pyrope, and she swears not to tell anyone, then maybe it's okay for you to let your slip-up slide just this once.


End file.
